Post by stevo on Dec 11, 2009 3:38:36 GMT -5
Last night I was paid a visit by the Ghosts of 6” Past. They showed to me ..What had been..What is…and What would be should I not change my recalcitrant ways.
What was: I saw Fatass runs with no insurance, no race numbers, no committees, no rules or regulations, entry fee’s or official approval. There was just a bunch of self gratifying trail runners, running where and when they liked, free from the protection of registration, check points and designated emergency personnel. What I was shown, I now know was little short of Anarchy. How was this tolerated for so long, did these fools not know what risks they were taking all in the name of fun and freedom. Selfish, deluded and depraved individuals indeed….Bah Humbug!!
What is: Next I was shown the vast and welcoming safety net of officialdom and bureaucracy. Entry forms and fee’s, websites and tee shirts online. A choice of two distances( no hard decisions to make) and the comfort of knowing there would be no runners gaining unfair advantage from non-entered pacers, only officially registered pacers, thus alleviating any threat to the integrity of this now officially sanctioned event. Utopia on the dirt no less. Yet unless I were to share in the unbridled joy of Official Approval I would forever be haunted and vilified by the Lords of The Trail, an outcast on the periphery of The Dirt Side, unless of course I repent and seek absolution…..Bah Humbug!
What could be: I see a sad and lonely “Golum” like character wandering aimlessly through the bush, mumbling incoherently, staggering and swaying from side to side, quite obviously dehydrated and lost. He approaches what appears to be an Oasis; there are table’s, chairs and shade. There are advertising hoardings, a cheer squad and dancing girls, free samples of all kinds, electrolytes and carbo shots, Gu’s and power bars, fresh fruit and cool clear water. As he gets closer there is a deafening roar, someone shouts..” lead runner!” He takes another painful step and is struck down by the Lead Motorcycle. As the dust settles an official from the 2km Checkpoint steps forward and rolls over the limp and battered body, they look down at the bruised and bloodied face and turn to the Check Point Commander and say…” It’s okay he’s not a registered competitor, no chest number, micro chip or tattoo, I’ll just roll him to the side of the track, we don’t want any of the runners or official pacers tripping over him…, look! the second Dirt Bike is coming, the second place runner must be close” with that he returns to the check point. It is only then that I realize that this poor and lifeless individual is me…
I awoke not quite sure what had taken place. Had it all been a dream but the taste of blood and dust in my mouth was all to real....Now my dilemma was what to do. Repent and conform? I think not....Bah Humbug!!!!
What was: I saw Fatass runs with no insurance, no race numbers, no committees, no rules or regulations, entry fee’s or official approval. There was just a bunch of self gratifying trail runners, running where and when they liked, free from the protection of registration, check points and designated emergency personnel. What I was shown, I now know was little short of Anarchy. How was this tolerated for so long, did these fools not know what risks they were taking all in the name of fun and freedom. Selfish, deluded and depraved individuals indeed….Bah Humbug!!
What is: Next I was shown the vast and welcoming safety net of officialdom and bureaucracy. Entry forms and fee’s, websites and tee shirts online. A choice of two distances( no hard decisions to make) and the comfort of knowing there would be no runners gaining unfair advantage from non-entered pacers, only officially registered pacers, thus alleviating any threat to the integrity of this now officially sanctioned event. Utopia on the dirt no less. Yet unless I were to share in the unbridled joy of Official Approval I would forever be haunted and vilified by the Lords of The Trail, an outcast on the periphery of The Dirt Side, unless of course I repent and seek absolution…..Bah Humbug!
What could be: I see a sad and lonely “Golum” like character wandering aimlessly through the bush, mumbling incoherently, staggering and swaying from side to side, quite obviously dehydrated and lost. He approaches what appears to be an Oasis; there are table’s, chairs and shade. There are advertising hoardings, a cheer squad and dancing girls, free samples of all kinds, electrolytes and carbo shots, Gu’s and power bars, fresh fruit and cool clear water. As he gets closer there is a deafening roar, someone shouts..” lead runner!” He takes another painful step and is struck down by the Lead Motorcycle. As the dust settles an official from the 2km Checkpoint steps forward and rolls over the limp and battered body, they look down at the bruised and bloodied face and turn to the Check Point Commander and say…” It’s okay he’s not a registered competitor, no chest number, micro chip or tattoo, I’ll just roll him to the side of the track, we don’t want any of the runners or official pacers tripping over him…, look! the second Dirt Bike is coming, the second place runner must be close” with that he returns to the check point. It is only then that I realize that this poor and lifeless individual is me…
I awoke not quite sure what had taken place. Had it all been a dream but the taste of blood and dust in my mouth was all to real....Now my dilemma was what to do. Repent and conform? I think not....Bah Humbug!!!!